Recommend an ex.Orelse wtf

Today I came across this article a friend posted, about a website called "Recommend an ex". 
The principle is simple. You broke up with a person but you think this person is great (which is exactly why you are not together anymore) and you want to ... help? be fair?  piss off your ex? so you post his/her photo with a link to their Facebook profile with a couple of sentences describing how cool this person is and why. I just noticed the website is meant mostly for the ones who dumped their partners, for it says : 
"Now you have the chance to transform the guilt or remorse of that kick in the ass into happiness."
So first of all, when you break up with someone and  feel guilty there's indeed no better way to  fix things up than  charitably recommending the very person who was not good for you to another victim. Are you serious?!

Right.Whatever. Let's say the person who recommends his/her ex is totally honest and broke up for other reasons than his/her ex partner being a hopeless socio, psycho, or other "paths".  Who on earth cares of knowing the good side of a person, since this is always what you get served first by the person itself? People want to impress you and showcase their most charming faces...Wouldn't it be better to have an insight on the person's bugs right from the beginning? If not to run away, just to be prepared; a friendly ex (who is over her/his ex) of your current flirt, is a blessing to have around. A chat with her (I say her for I don't know if this happens between men too) is extremely useful, precisely because she can point out, in a smooth way, the less brilliant side of the sunshine you're in love with. The problem is that you usually get to an open discussion like this far too late, when you are already getting to similar conclusions and solutions like hers before you.
But the good side of it is that you can make friends. That happened to me more than once. You can even  hang out with your ex and the exes of your ex and have a really great time. By the way, thanks to some of my exes for the beautiful friends their exes are to me now :-)

Back to the website..and to all these exes. The meaning of the latin word "ex" means "out of". So why on earth should you keep interfering in the private life of the person you've just chucked out of yours just to get away with some (justified or unjustified) remorse of yours... You don't do that sort of condescending shit. I don't get it.
Well as far as I'm concerned, if any of my exes had the weird idea of "recommending me" this way, he could be sure to get the same treatment, except I'd definitely make sure noone would ever want to date him again.

Les jeux sont faits. Rien ne va plus.

There was this sax player who took a pair of dice out of his pocket after the concert and made us play. Without any kind of stake. Just throwing dice. I was the first to give up, and went to dance for that, at least, made some sense to me. 
"Les jeux sont faits."  
I remember the one and only time I somehow ended at a roulette table in a casino. I lost the twenty euros left I had in my pocket straight away and decided I was definitely not going to try playing ever again. Just made sure I'd get my money back on the free drinks and cigarettes the casino was offering to its guests and left the place. 
I do like the aesthetics of the roulette wheel though.The sound of the ball spinning. Surrounded by the silence of expectation. The ball rolls and rolls and you can only wait to see where it ends. No matter if you played big or nothing at all, you just get into it. There's always this ultimate moment when you let go because you placed your bets and.... "Rien ne va plus." You are not in control anymore, watching is all you can do. 
Just as in certain life situations, except the life situations sometimes look like but end up in a less glamorous style than Monte Carlo.
Anyway, I was feeling rather easy and relaxed these days since the ball of one of my personal roulette-like-situation has finally popped out, bounced and hit a number. I was relieved to be freed of tension, at last. (It is the exact same feeling as when you realize that the splinter that had made its way deep under your skin has just worked its way out of it on its own.) It was not the luckiest number that was hit but who cares, for in roulette, it's always the same sentence that comes next: "Mesdames et Messieurs, Faites vos jeux." 

the existential thoughts of a ladybird

We were just finishing our dinner in the red room, the room that always made me thought a cat was missing there. Not really because of the occasional visitors from the zoo across the street (the mice, not the giraffes), just because the room had this coziness and elegance that a beautiful moving feline would only enhance.
While Sarajevo, the owner of the non existent cat, was dipping a last piece of bread in humus, a ladybird appeared walking on her plate. Moving from the center to the edge of the plate rimmed with red dots, with a rest of chick-peas paste on its  back leg, the ladybird started circling around the plate's edge.
We were so surprised to see it there, that we followed its movements, mesmerized: one circle, and then another one. How boring!  So we thought, does the beetle know it is moving in circles?
We decided to help it out of the plate, and even to clean its leg of the food stuck on it. Moved it onto the red circular place mat. It went straight to the glass and started to make it's way up. Sarajevo was not happy with it, for as she said, the ladybird would fall into the water, start to drown, and she would have to rescue it. Not willing to play the lifeguard in mineral water, she made it fall down. Do you think a beetle gets hurt, when falling from a height comparable to a second floor for us ?(proportionally to its size, of course)
Spring was knocking at the door, no wonder ladybirds appeared, but like this? out of the blue? in a plate of humus?
As it had decided to abandon the table mat and was strolling on the white table, Sarajevo came up with a strange question: "do you think it feels lonely?". I had it clear, no, ladybugs did certainly not have this kind of problems. However, I was concerned about its presence on the table, for various reasons, like I didn't feel ready to find it suddenly in my plate, or my fork, on the way to my inner labyrinth. I thought it would be much better off in one of the plants. So it was first moved, like a princess, on a flying napkin, (as if it couldn't fly, lazy bug!) to the banana plant, where it refused to get off. I almost heard an angry miniature voice screeching "Not the banana you morons!!"
So we tried another plant, and another one. The ladybird would stay on the leg of the pin up girl printed on the napkin. We concluded the beetle didn't like plants anymore, traumatized as it probably was from seeing a member of her family being devoured by a carnivorous plant. I didn't know by the way, until we raised this possibility and I checked carnivorous plants on the internet, that these bloodthirsty flowers have lovely names such as Darlingtonia Californica.
Well, life's not easy being a ladybird, since you can end up abandoned, feeling lonely,  falling in a plate of humus to be finally thrown in what resembles the monster who massacred your family. Not mentioning the weird fact that when you speak to a ladybird in Czech and want it to fly away, you always tell it that its house is burning (since when does a bug have a house? wtf?).
No...you don't want to be a ladybug, believe me. Seems a hell of a life!

Creepy on the flipside

“But would you kindly ponder this question: What would your good do if evil didn't exist, and what would the earth look like if all the shadows disappeared? After all, shadows are cast by things and people. Here is the shadow of my sword. But shadows also come from trees and living beings.
Do you want to strip the earth of all trees and living things just because of your fantasy of enjoying naked light? You're stupid.”

Woland

While some, after a long day of work, bump into an Angel Gabriel lying on the ground, fat of all the messages it carries, while some see  people who are long gone to the flipside, all the time, I do encounter black cats behind windows or  even Devil's Elbow in a wine shop. It is no cheap buy... must be devilishly delicious!
I left the bottle there, thinking I should first investigate how and when the other transubstantiation happened - the one that transformed the blood of Christ into Devil's Elbow- before drinking it.
But my mind stayed occupied with all sorts of spooky stories I heard of or talked about recently. I like these, just as I like the monster in Guillermo del Toro's "Pan's Labyrinth"  ("El Laberinto del fauno"), the one who's got eyes on his hands. He could be less ugly, indeed, but he's meant to be a scary creature. Now how beautiful is the metaphor of having eyes on your hands. It is even better than having the eyes of a fly, because it certainly looks classier than having your eyes covering half of your body. Creepy? well I know at least one person who also enjoys pondering on this kind of things.
The "living dead dolls" we saw in a window on a Sunday morning while waiting for our brunch were less of my taste. I still wonder who are these freakish bloody dolls with a severed hand and a a livid face designed for. We decided to finally go get our lunch at this pop up restaurant, went in, and found the decor was lovely except a rather creepy detail. On the walls,  two black and white photographs of  children were hanging, nice pictures, aside from the fact that the kids front head was bleeding very red. Bizarre... Nevertheless, we totally enjoyed the food, especially this outrageously decadent plate of Tiramisu with brownies made of Pierre Marcolini's finest chocolate. Too bad it came last and we were so full we could neither finish it, nor even eat more than a few mouthfuls of that delicacy. Devil knows we can hardly resist to temptation of such sort. 
Sunday had more surprises in store, for at a birthday party I met, among English gentlemen telling camel jokes and stories of a noble grandfather lost and found amidst obscure family secrets, a  musician who told me the scary story of a friend whose father had killed her mother with a hammer, a lady who was stolen all her money while on holidays in Sevilla and thus decided to eat in the best restaurants and always run away without paying, and a French bulldog called Jazzy who looked like a short legged cow,  grunted like a pig and was wearing a red hoody. 
That day, I think wouldn't be surprised if I had also met Behemoth, or else the chess playing black cat. I guess he'd have said "Actually, I do happen to resemble a hallucination. Kindly note my silhouette in the moonlight" and when asked to be quiet, -for who on earth ever saw a speaking cat?- , he'd go: 
"- Very well, I shall be silent, I shall be a silent hallucination." *
Maybe like the cat I saw behind the window a few days ago. Who maybe had something to do with the bottle of wine that took all my attention..Devil's Elbow. but...what the devil does he want?




*in The Master and Margarita, Mikhail Bulgakov